


Let Rainwater Wash Away

by carpemermaid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Flirting, Forced Proximity, Frottage, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Harry Potter, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, Snogging, Thunderstorms, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/pseuds/carpemermaid
Summary: Harry really needed to learn the importance of carrying an umbrella. Or, maybe he didn’t, since not carrying one led him to stumble upon Draco Malfoy’s antique shop while seeking shelter from a thunderstorm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** #[157](http://hp-drizzle.livejournal.com/50685.html?thread=813565#t813565) at [HP Drizzle 2016](http://hp-drizzle.livejournal.com/55430.html)  
>  **Warning(s):** loose and fast references to antiques and their origins, forced proximity, pining, flirting, UST, snogging, frotting, blowjobs  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
>  **Notes:** I really enjoyed playing with this prompt with Draco as a shop owner! Many thanks to _Melodic_ for beta reading!

Harry had gone out for lunch, and every step of the way he was cursing himself for it. The temperatures had been unbearably high and humid, even for the summertime. He’d just wanted to go to his favourite chippy near the Ministry to try and improve his mood after his dour morning in the Auror offices. His afternoon had been looking up after he’d gotten his grease-soaked newspaper full of battered fish and chips, and he’d even started to come out of his sour mood that had left a bad taste in his mouth. That was, until the thunderstorm hit and he’d gotten stuck in it walking back towards the Ministry in Muggle London. His chips were drenched and soggy in less than two minutes and he binned them as he dashed by a dustbin, hopelessly looking around to find cover with the rest of the swarm of Muggles in business attire taking out their umbrellas and holding their newspapers over their heads.

The storm had hit so fast that Harry didn’t even have time to cast an Impervius Charm before he was completely soaked through, his shirt clinging to his skin uncomfortably and his tie slapping wetly against his chest as he ran. There were too many Muggles around him to risk a drying charm, and he didn’t have an umbrella with him — he’d left it in his office at the Auror Department. The rain came down in endless sheets that seemed to fall sideways as the wind swept it up. The drops were plummeting towards the ground, smacking the pavement in heavy splashes and quickly creating small rivers that ran into the streets.

Harry ducked from shop awning to shop awning, getting splashed by the excess water sluicing off the overhang. He was awkwardly holding his hand out in a sad attempt to shield his rain-spotted glasses from the downpour and cursing himself again for not thinking to add an Impervius Charm to them before he’d left his office at the Ministry. Harry only made it halfway down the block before a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, lighting it up and making several people stare up at it. It was immediately followed by an ominous crash of thunder that reverberated through Harry’s whole body. He gave up looking for an alley to Apparate from and blindly ducked into the next shop he passed to wait out the worst of the storm.

He barely noticed the tinkle of the bell above the door and Harry stood — dripping water all over the welcome mat – and felt every inch the drowned rat. He didn’t take in or register the shop’s surroundings, he just looked down at his soaked clothes that he wore under his Auror robes and tried to wipe the wayward drops of rain from his glasses. His socks were squelching in his shoes from when he’d stepped in a puddle, and he was tempted to take them off and pour the excess water out from his shoes. He looked up at the sound of someone making their way across the shop towards him and looked apologetically at the shop owner for dripping all over their floor.

"Welcome! Please let me know if there’s anything I can assist with and —" the shop owner’s familiar voice cut off and Harry stared at Draco Malfoy, his mouth open in shock and holding a half-eaten sandwich with a piece of spinach hanging haphazardly from the side. " _Potter_?"

"Er," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing around the shop. He was at a loss for words to explain this twist of fate. He took in his surroundings and noticed seemingly endless shelves, all packed to the gills with what looked like antiques of all sorts. He felt his eyebrows raising of their own volition as he walked carefully towards a glass case, fully aware that he was still dripping, and peered closer at the contents. He tilted his head in confusion over the fact that the delicate painting on the side of the vase he was looking at was moving like a wizard painting would. It was sitting next to a decidedly Muggle tea set. "Is that — are some of these...?"

"Yes, Potter, I have a license and permit to sell magical artefacts alongside Muggle antiques," Malfoy said in a sharp tone. He moved forward to shoulder Harry out of the way and blocked the case with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his sandwich suddenly gone. He looked affronted and Harry felt a mild stirring of guilt. "I’m abiding by the Ministry set regulations, I have all of my permits in order for every artefact that’s on the floor. They’re all carefully warded to repel the Muggles that enter my shop."

"Huh, okay," Harry said slowly, glancing over Malfoy’s shoulder towards the moving painting on the vase again. "And it’s alright for them to be right next to the Muggle antiques, as well?"

"Don’t tell me how to organize my wares, Potter!" Malfoy snapped and Harry took a step back, holding his hands up in front of him. "There’s no need for the Ministry to send Auror interference — I have all of my paperwork in order!"

"Sorry, sorry. I only came in here to avoid the storm, I had no idea it was your shop," Harry said in placating tones. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him and gave him a once-over before huffing and turning away to go back behind the counter. Harry could see his lunch spread out meticulously on the counter and a small Muggle telly with a soap programme playing quietly. Harry followed him over at a sedate pace, the sound of the lashing rain outside and the boom of the thunder covering the squelching in his shoes.

"EastEnders, huh?" Harry asked, still surprised that Malfoy watched Muggle television and ran a shop of Muggle and magical antiques and artefacts.

"Shh, hush Potter, you’ve already made me miss part of this," Malfoy said, engrossed in the small screen. Harry watched him for a moment before walking around the shop in a slow circle, examining the wares for sale. A small golden figuring statue of an owl caught his eye and he felt a pang in his heart for Hedwig. He still couldn’t bring himself to get another owl to replace her, even over five years on. He became engrossed in his thoughts as he browsed around the shop, the sound of the rain and the thunderstorm outside becoming soothing when he wasn’t dashing through it looking for shelter.

"Why are you still here?" Malfoy asked distractedly, his attention still glued to the little telly.

"Couldn’t find an alley to Apparate from," Harry said as he looked around the shop. He looked down at his shoes when he felt them protesting wetly and he realized he was still dripping. He flicked his wand and a charm dried his clothes. He wasn’t great at the charm, it always left his suit clothes feeling extra starchy.

Harry hadn’t seen Malfoy in years, and that all too familiar need to know what he was up to started to consume him again. The magical antiques and artefacts that were sandwiched in between old Muggle children’s toys and estate jewelry intrigued him and he suddenly didn’t want to leave the shop to go back out into the storm. He’d forgotten all about the rest of his work waiting for him back at the Auror offices in the DMLE. He wanted to know why Malfoy had ended up here of all places, selling antiques and knick-knacks and odd little baubles. To Muggles, of all people.

As he wandered around the shop, picking up the wares at random, Malfoy appeared at his elbow suddenly and watched him like a hawk. For each item he picked up Malfoy tersely commented on the item and its origin, and it became like a little game. He wondered if Malfoy knew the back-story of every item in the shop.

"Ming Dynasty, circa 1382. The witch who created it for the Emperor charmed it so that opium would be even more potent when smoked from this bowl," Malfoy said, and pointed to the witch’s trademark symbol and waved his wand to activate her faint magical signature. Harry hummed, intrigued and impressed that Malfoy seemed to know what he was talking about.

"And this one?" Harry asked, picking up another item at random. It was a wooden pipe with intricate patterns carved into it. Harry turned it back and forth to see the detail in the craftsmanship. He ran a finger along the carving and Malfoy’s fingers brushed his as they plucked the pipe from his hands with a smirk on his face.

"A Native American piece, technically this one is a reproduction — but it’s a very, very good one," Malfoy said slyly, his fingers running along the same carved pattern that Harry had just been tracing. Harry’s eyebrows shot up and then he narrowed his eyes at Malfoy.

"A reproduction? Doesn’t that mean it’s not really an antique?" Harry asked. Malfoy hummed and his smirk widened.

"No one can tell the difference, I don’t really get anything more than the passing enthusiast in here. I need to make a living, after all," Malfoy said, watching Harry intently. Harry sighed, and looked down at the pipe in Malfoy’s hands.

"So, what’s the story with this one? If it were real, what’s the point of it?" Harry asked.

"It’s meant to be Kokopelli’s flute," Malfoy explained, turning the antique over. He pointed to an illustrated depiction of a man hunched over his instrument with wild hair that sat on a nearby shelf, and then mimicked the illustration with the instrument in his hands. Harry was amused at Malfoy’s impression. "The legend is that he was a god of fertility and pranks, as well as a healer and a storyteller. He supposedly travelled around from village to village changing the seasons, but really he was a wizard who was half-drunk at all times. He amused himself with rudimentary heating charms to impress the Muggles and travelled around trying to impregnate as many women as he could."

Harry stared at Malfoy as he laughed and placed the flute back on the shelf. His eyes lit up as he pointed out a piece on the next shelf and held it up for Harry to examine.

"This is a really interesting piece, it’s an artefact that dates back to a time around when the original Pureblood lines were starting," Malfoy told him with an excited reverence. Harry carefully held the magical artefact, it looked to be a gilded telescope of sorts. Harry tilted his head as he examined it and looked up at Malfoy with a hopeful expression, needing an explanation to know what it was.

"Haven’t you ever heard of them before, Potter?" Malfoy asked exasperatedly as he took back the small telescope device. He held it up and tapped it with his wand. "Well, no, I suppose that makes sense that you didn’t. It’s only really a popular tale in the families that descended through the Pureblood lines. Now, the charm work is really dampened since it’s so ancient, but it was used to determine the purity of one’s blood — quite an interesting feat for the time, really," he explained. Harry frowned as he was prodded to look through the little telescope at Malfoy and saw his skin colour flashing with a faint blue tinge. Malfoy took the telescope back and flipped it so it was pointed at Harry, humming while he examined Harry through it. "Yes, see, I will show up as blue and you’re showing up with a faint red tinge, can’t escape those Gryffindor colours ever, eh Potter?"

Harry shook his head at this strange turn his afternoon had taken. Harry wanted to ask if there was anything with dark magic in the shop, but he bit his tongue because as their game had gone on Malfoy had slowly relaxed. He’d lost the tense, annoyed tone in his voice and had even followed Harry around at his elbow and pointed out several of his favourite pieces with a quickly growing air of excitement and confidence, an air of someone who actually enjoyed what he’d been doing. And Harry found that he liked seeing that on Malfoy, it was different from the cocky confidence and snobbery that he’d exuded back at Hogwarts, it was more genuine. Harry wondered if this was the first layer of the real Malfoy under that cool mask he’d always known him to wear. He knew there were other true versions of Malfoy under there. Harry knew what Malfoy looked like when he was afraid, what he looked like when he cried, what he looked like when he didn’t want to kill, what he looked like when he thought he was dying — and at that thought Harry’s stomach clenched painfully with guilt. Unbidden, Harry’s mind wondered what Malfoy looked like when he came undone and how he might look when he was laughing. Would his eyes light up — would he smile so wide that his tongue might peek out between his teeth?

And suddenly Harry wanted to know these things like a starving man finding his first meal in days. It took Harry by surprise; he felt like the air had been sucked from the room. He felt off-balance. When he shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts of Malfoy he noticed the other man looking at him with a curious expression.

"Why are you still here, Potter?" Malfoy asked, less harshly than he’d asked the first time. A crack of thunder answered for Harry and he gestured up vaguely.

"Do you have a Floo I can use?" Harry asked. Malfoy shook his head and Harry saluted him, preparing to Apparate instead.

"Well, it’s been — er — nice, Malfoy," Harry said as he raised his wand. Malfoy’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, and Harry’s skin tingled at the contact. Malfoy looked slightly desperate, like maybe he didn’t want to be alone.

"I wouldn’t try to Apparate, Potter. There’s no Floo here because of Ministry regulations, and there’s anti-Apparition wards from the previous shop owner woven deeply into the wards. Even I haven’t been able to crack them, so the only exit is back out into Muggle London," Malfoy explained.

"The previous shop owner?" Harry asked, distracted by the titbit of information. Malfoy still hadn’t released his wrist.

"Yes, I was his apprentice. He gave me the job, and then when he retired last year he left the shop to me," Malfoy said, looking vaguely uncomfortable. He gripped Harry’s wrist tighter for a moment and then let go abruptly. The flashes of lightning and the loud booms of thunder punctuated their stilted conversation about Harry’s departure. The storm wasn’t showing any sign of letting up. Malfoy was facing towards the display shelf, meticulously straightening his wares and Harry could only see his profile. Malfoy turned back to him suddenly. "Won’t you get in trouble with the Ministry for not going back into work?"

"I never take time off for myself, surely I’m owed a little vacation time," Harry said with a shrug.

"What happens if the DMLE have been wild all afternoon with a new case of a horrible dark wizard running amok in London, with a full on hostage situation, and —“ Malfoy rambled on and on before he finally cut himself off because Harry was laughing so hard that he was wheezing. When Harry could breathe again he noticed the glint in Malfoy’s eyes and it made him smile wider.

An angry thunderclap, even louder than the previous ones, shook the shop, making the glass and porcelain items tinkle faintly against the display cases. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness; the only light they could see by was from the dim light outside the front door. Malfoy gave a frustrated sigh and walked over to the counter to grab his wand.

" _Lumos_ ," he said and the wand tip lit up. Harry had returned his wand to him by owl years ago, and suddenly seeing it again made a tingle of magic zing through him. Malfoy was examining the fuse box and scowling. Harry was caught up for a moment at the sight of Malfoy, Pureblood Draco Malfoy, examining his own fuse box to the shop he ran as if he knew what to do over the loss of electricity. "Ugh, the storm’s fried it all, damn it."

"I’m sorry, I’m having a very hard time reconciling the fact that _you_ even understand what you’re saying, let alone doing," Harry said. He was surprised that his own eyebrows didn’t break away from his face and shoot up into the ceiling, they were so far up on his forehead in wonder and shock. Malfoy scoffed and looked at him over his shoulder, his face eerily lit by the wand light.

"I had to adapt in order to survive," Malfoy said flatly and Harry dropped it, moving forward to stand over Malfoy’s shoulder and examine the box himself.

"No, look, it’s not that bad — just these two on the end are a bit melted," Harry said pointing out the places where the electricity had coursed through the building and been too much for the ancient-looking fuse box to handle. "I think you just pop down to the hardware store with these pieces and the shop clerk will be able to tell you how to fix it. My Uncle made me help him with the one they had in the cellar once."

As the storm raged on outside, lighting the shop with the flashes of lightning, Malfoy and Harry sat at Malfoy’s counter. Harry was stranded without a Floo or a way to Apparate, and he didn’t fancy going out into the storm as it got continually worse and worse. Harry had hoped that the power going out would affect the wards, but they had seemed even stronger than before when he tested them to see if he could unravel the anti-Apparition wards. While the power outage had made the wards stronger, it made the rest of the magic inlaid into the shop go wonky. The heating and cooling regulating charms failed after the first half hour. As the temperature in the shop rose steadily to match the oppressive heat outside Harry was forced to roll up his sleeves, and unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt to get some relief. Malfoy had stubbornly refused, even as his hair wilted along his brow. Harry noted with a sense of delight that the fine hair at the back of Malfoy’s neck had started to curl with sweat. He wanted to taste Malfoy’s skin and run his fingers through Malfoy’s mussed hair. He wanted to unwrap him and make him come undone.

"Oh, that is it, Potter!" Malfoy snapped, finally getting fed up as Harry was about to remove his shirt all together. He flicked his wand sharply and non-verbally transfigured a pencil from a cup on his counter into an umbrella for Harry. Harry was impressed with his transfiguration skills. "Take this, and please leave my shop."

"Okay," Harry said, waiting for Malfoy to reach out and grab his wrist again to keep any form of company with him in the quiet shop on a stormy afternoon. When no protest came he sighed and nodded, picking up the umbrella. "Thanks, the thought didn’t occur to me," he said, holding up the umbrella in indication.

"That’s because you’re still an idiot," Malfoy said and Harry frowned at him, wondering if this was a mask and which layer of the real Malfoy was underneath it. He let the jibe slide without rising to the bait and turned to leave. Harry knew one thing for certain as he ventured back out into the raging storm, he’d be back to Malfoy’s shop again.

*******

In the weeks that followed that fateful thunderstorm, Harry found himself visiting Malfoy’s shop as often as he could. At first he made up an excuse to go back, digging through his cold case files to find something that related to artefacts where their usual consultants hadn’t been able to determine anything. He’d taken the file to Malfoy and pointedly ignored Malfoy’s knowing look when he showed up in Malfoy’s antique shop again. Malfoy had given him the necessary analysis of the troublesome artefact and he was able to close a case that had been cold for five years before he’d even started with the Aurors.

He knew he would only be able to use the excuse of needing Malfoy’s expertise on magical artefacts for a case sparingly, so Harry had to come up with other excuses to visit the shop. He’d gone to find a toy for Teddy, and an early birthday gift for Hermione, and one day he decided to stop by with tea from the café around the corner. Malfoy had eyed it in interest and Harry’d found his in. He returned the next day with a second tea for Malfoy and from there it became a thing for them. Harry would pop by at random times on random days with tea and he would pester Malfoy, until their light flirting and circling each other shifted and suddenly they were _Draco_ and _Harry_. Unless Draco wanted to tease him, then he was still Potter. And, really that was most of the time still. As they got to know one another better, Harry found himself more and more intrigued with Draco, and more than a little smitten. Draco had pointed out more of his favourite pieces and eagerly explained their histories and significance to Harry. Harry found his enthusiasm for the subject rather charming.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts as he ducked out of the light sun shower into Draco’s shop. Today would be the day, he could feel it. Today he’d get Draco to go for a real drink with him. Today he’d break their holding pattern and they’d take another significant step forward in this little thing they’d started between one another.

"I come bearing gifts!" Harry called out into the store and heard a vicious hushing sound coming from the counter. "Ah, have I interrupted your programme again?"

"I will interrupt your state of consciousness if it will make you shut up," Draco snapped and held out a hand for his tea. Harry snorted and their fingers brushed together as Harry handed over his cup. Harry waited the final ten minutes until the credits rolled on Draco’s programme before he leaned forward on his elbows on the counter.

"So, how about it, come for a drink with me? Saturday night?" Harry asked. Draco looked at him over the cardboard rim of his cup and his eyes lit up with mischief.

"I seem to have that here, Potter," he said and raised the cardboard take away cup up. Harry rolled his eyes and felt his lips tug into a reluctant smile.

"I meant a proper drink, at a pub — or back at mine or yours," Harry replied and was delighted to see Draco’s eyebrows fly up.

"My, my, aren’t we forward today," Draco said with a casual air as he went over to catalogue new items that were being appraised before they could be put up for sale. He shot Harry a pleased look when he didn’t think Harry was watching, and then ducked his head to hide the flush creeping up his pale neck.

Harry looked out the window distractedly and saw the sky darkening from the sun shower to a sudden onslaught of a storm. He sighed at the sight. He didn’t have an umbrella, _again_. Draco looked up at his despondent attitude and glanced out the window. It rained often when Harry stopped by the shop. Draco never missed an opportunity to tease him over his forgetfulness about the state of English weather.

"Are you unaware of the concept of the umbrella and its importance as an accessory to the British?" Draco asked with a smirk. "Especially if one is going to be spending so much time around Muggle London, forgetting to cast Impervius and drying charms on oneself before dripping all over the welcome mat of the prestigious antique shop they stubbornly frequent."

"Prestigious antique shop, eh?" Harry asked with a wry grin. Draco merely raised an eyebrow and his chin a fraction in stubborn response. "Well, as it were, I’m not as much interested in the wares of the _prestigious antique shop_ as I am in the _prestigious antique shop’s owner_ ," Harry said with a wink, and then he asked hopefully, "Is today going to be the day I can finally convince you to come and have that drink with me?"

Draco snorted inelegantly and half turned away from him, crossing his arms over his chest, trying and failing to contain a smile. "Not in the slightest, Potter, you’ll need to do much better than that."

Harry was certain that Draco was secretly flattered by Harry’s continuous flirting, and his multiple attempts to ask Draco out. He’d been sure of it since the first couple of tries when Draco had first gotten annoyed, thinking he was joking, and then blushed and chewed on the inside of his cheek when he realized Harry was entirely serious. Harry smiled back and inched closer, reaching his hand out and rubbing his thumb lightly across the skin of Draco’s wrist.

"Are you sure today isn’t the day?" Harry asked. Draco glanced at him quickly, then turned away with a huff.

"Go away, Harry, I’m busy — I need to get these catalogued before the day is over," Draco said and went back to his pile. "Thank you for the tea."

*******

Harry finally managed for that drink to happen when he showed up late one afternoon a couple of weeks later with a bottle of wine and take away. Outside, another thunderstorm raged, much like the one that had blown him into the shop by chance the first time. As usual Harry’d forgotten an umbrella, and he’d been unable to cast the necessary charms. He hoped the wine was enough of an apology for showing up like a soggy dog on the welcome mat again. Draco looked up at the tinkle of the bell and raised an eyebrow at his sodden state. He cast non-verbally and Harry felt the relief of a soft drying charm engulfing him like a warm blanket. It didn’t even leave his clothes feeling overly starched, like his own charm work usually did. He smiled and carted the food and the wine over to the counter where Draco sat.

"Hey, thought I’d bring by a late lunch, or an early dinner. I had a meeting in the area with Muggle police liaisons," Harry said, still slightly out of breath from his mad dash for the door to get out of the storm. The thunder rumbled outside and it made Harry smile, remembering the first time he’d come in and gotten to watch Malfoy get all rumpled without the cooling charms. Harry’d brought them take away lunch before in the weeks he’d been visiting. He’d brought lunch from his favourite chippy that was nearby, which Draco had wrinkled his nose at while he voraciously stole all of Harry’s chips. He’d also brought them sandwiches and curry. Draco hummed in appreciation as he pulled the containers towards him.

"Oh, Merlin, that smells good — I’ve forgotten to eat lunch today. I’ve been so busy with everything this week, it’s been absolute madness," Draco said as he went to a table towards the back of the shop that had kitchenware on it and brought them two plates and utensils. He also levitated two wine glasses for them behind him. Harry snorted and pointedly took a bite of food directly out of the carton. "Oh, you cretin," Draco scolded exasperatedly. Harry grinned at him and licked his fingers clean. Draco’s eyes tracked the movement of his tongue with barely concealed interest.

Draco meticulously put together his plate of food while Harry opened the wine bottle with a nifty charm he’d learned from Mrs Weasley. He poured them each a glass. They chatted amiably while they ate. Harry told Draco about an interesting case that he’d been working on that involved an art thief, and Draco talked about a new patron of the shop that was a wizard. They’d nearly finished the whole bottle and had eaten a good portion of the food when Harry realized he’d stayed for over an hour. He was having a good time. He didn’t want to leave just yet, so he lingered. Harry poured the last of the wine into each of their glasses.

"So what’s got you so busy today that you’d forgotten to eat?" Harry asked. Draco’s eyes lit up with excitement and Harry couldn’t help but smile. He’d discovered so many layers of the real Draco under that cool mask he showed the world.

"I’ve just gotten word today from the Ministry that it’s gone through! I’ve gotten travel clearance, I’m going to be travelling to the continent for the next six weeks to acquire more antiques!" Draco told him, gesturing to the stack of parchment paper with the official Ministry seal that Harry hadn’t seen when he’d come in. "I won’t be around, so I’ve had to hire an assistant to run the shop for me while I’m gone, I’ve been training her in the mornings in between dealing with customers. Listen, Potter, she’s going to have a job to do, so I don’t want you to come bother her while I’m gone, alright?"

Harry wasn’t sure whether the smile he wanted to give in reassurance ever reached his lips. Inside his head he was panicking and trying not to overreact. He felt his hand shaking and he slowly lowered his wine glass to the counter. Draco was carrying the antiques he’d put price tags on to their new homes on the shelves and Harry trailed after him. His heart felt like it would beat right out of his chest if he didn’t _do something_ because he couldn’t believe that Draco was leaving. What did it mean? He couldn’t leave without Harry letting him know exactly how he felt. When Draco turned around Harry felt emotions bubbling up in his chest and he was full on panicking, so he did the only thing he could think to do — he rushed into a kiss.

He pushed Draco back until he had him pressed against the shelf along the wall. Draco made a noise of surprise, but put up little protest. Harry slid his hands slowly up Draco’s sides until he was cupping his face in both of his hands and moving his lips gently against Draco’s. Harry slowly opened his mouth and ran his tongue lightly along Draco’s bottom lip. Harry’s eyes flew open, staring at Draco in wonder when he let out a small sound and opened his mouth to kiss Harry back. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and he groaned desperately as their tongues slid together. Harry slid one of his hands back and carded his fingers through Draco’s hair, gripping it to tilt his head and kiss him deeper. Draco’s wicked tongue flicked against his and he sucked Harry’s lower lip into his mouth, nipping at it. Harry pinned Draco with his body into the shelves. Draco’s hands roamed greedily over Harry’s chest, up his arms and shoulders, and down his back to tug at the bottom of Harry’s shirt until it was free from his trousers.

Draco slid cool fingers up his back and moaned into their kiss as their mouths moved together.

Without warning Draco grabbed the front of his shirt in two fistfuls and flipped their positions so that Harry was being pinned to the shelf by Draco. Harry broke their kiss to bite and suck and lay open-mouthed kisses down Draco’s neck. His head tipped back with a groan as Harry sucked greedily on his pulse point. Harry’s hands roamed over Draco’s back and down to his arse, gripping it in firm handfuls and pulling their hips together. Draco attacked Harry’s neck and his head smacked back against the shelf as Draco expertly found one of Harry’s more sensitive spots. He rolled their hips together as his arousal quickly mounted. Their moans were drowned out occasionally by the sound of thunder overhead and Harry leaned forward to recapture Draco’s lips in a passionate kiss. Draco’s fingers deftly opened the buttons of Harry’s shirt and he was helping him shrug out of it when Harry’s elbow collided with something on the shelf and Harry heard the distinct shatter of something that was surely priceless.

"Oh — fuck, sorry," Harry muttered against Draco’s lips into their kiss.

"Leave it," Draco said impatiently in response, running his fingers over Harry’s exposed chest. Draco wrapped one arm around Harry’s neck and one around his waist and kissed him again, rolling them along the shelf as they traded off devouring each other. Harry felt lightheaded, it was all so good and it was everything he’d dreamed it would be when he’d first had the desire to unwrap Draco. Draco pulled away from him for a moment and Harry was worried he would tell him this was a mistake, but Draco only flicked his wand at the shop door and the open sign violently jumped around to tell the world outside _CLOSED_ — the universal sign for fuck off — and Harry heard the lock click on the door before he was distracted again by Draco’s talented tongue wickedly tracing patterns up his neck.

Harry groaned and pulled Draco’s mouth back to his and flipped them over again, sending another glass bauble crashing to the floor as they turned against the shelves. Harry was vaguely aware of a pulse of magic that signified that it had been one of Draco’s artefacts and not a Muggle antique.

They rubbed their erections together as they gripped each other’s hips, and Harry suddenly needed more – he needed to feel him. He impatiently snapped his fingers and both of their flies were opened. Draco stared at him with a shocked, lustful expression at the display of power and wandless magic. He growled and leaned in to lave his tongue along Harry’s collarbone, biting at the skin and leaving marks that would still be there tomorrow. Harry reached into Draco’s pants and pulled out his flushed cock, biting his lip at the sight of it. He wanted to ride it. He wanted _everything_. He gave Draco’s cock a squeeze and rubbed his thumb through the pearly drop of precome that gathered in the slit. Draco keened and pressed his face further into Harry’s neck as his body shuddered against his. Harry reached into his own pants and pulled out his cock and Draco’s long fingers immediately encircled it, squeezing it and wanking it in the exact way that he liked. Harry brought their throbbing cocks together and spit in his hand before wrapping them both in his firm grip and stroking them together.

"Oh, yes, just like that," Draco murmured on a sigh into his ear. His breath tickled and Harry turned his head to kiss Draco’s swollen lips. His tongue thrust into Draco’s mouth in a show of all of the things he wanted and Draco moaned and sucked eagerly on his tongue as Harry stroked their cocks. Harry needed to taste all of him. He pressed one more kiss to Draco’s lips and then spun them around and sank to his knees. He leaned forward and buried his face against the warm skin of Draco’s belly, the light curls of hair that led down to his cock tickling Harry’s nose. He looked up into Draco’s eyes as he opened his mouth and sucked on the head of Draco’s cock. His hands slid around to squeeze Draco’s arse and he peeled Draco’s trousers and pants off of him until they were around Draco’s thighs. He slid his hands up the back of Draco’s legs, his fingers brushing inside the crack of Draco’s arse. Draco cried out and pressed further into Harry’s mouth and Harry’s tongue curled around him. He brought one hand around to massage Draco’s bollocks while his fingers teasingly brushed against the tight furl of Draco’s hole. Harry heard the _thud_ of Draco’s head as it hit the shelf and looked up to watch Draco desperately grip at the shelf. Harry hummed and sucked Draco’s cock deeper into his mouth and he lived for the keening sounds Draco was making. "Yes, fuck, Harry! That’s so good!"

Harry flicked and curled his tongue as he sucked, squeezed and teased Draco until Draco’s bollocks were tightening up in Harry’s hand and Draco was coming in great hot spurts into Harry’s mouth. Harry swallowed around his cock and nuzzled his nose into Draco’s hip, pressing a kiss there as Draco twitched with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He smirked as Draco seemed to melt down the shelf he’d been leaning heavily against until he was a sated pile of half-clothed limbs on the ground. Draco let out a content sigh and then shifted to nuzzle against Harry’s still hard cock. He opened his mouth to suck Harry in return. Harry sprawled back against the floor and groaned at Draco’s talented tongue lapping at the head of his cock, driving him wild with desire.

"Christ, wanted you to do that for so long," Harry murmured and rolled his hips up to meet the warm heat of Draco’s bobbing mouth. Draco had him arching and writhing on the floor, riding his wicked mouth until it was all too much and Harry was coming hard down his throat and Draco swallowed all of it. Draco rested with his face against Harry’s thigh, absently running his hand up and down Harry’s leg. They both jumped at a loud crash of thunder and laughed at each other.

"Shall I make us some tea?" Draco asked as he hauled himself up. He held a hand out to help Harry up and Harry smiled at him, unable to resist kissing him lazily when he stood.

"Will you stay closed for the rest of the afternoon — and if so, can I finally take you out for that proper drink?" Harry asked as they tucked themselves away. Draco smiled coyly, and pretended to think over his answer before Harry got exasperated and crowded him back against the shelf again. He kissed him quickly and dragged his lips across Draco’s skin, sucking at the equally sensitive patch under Draco’s ear that made him buck his hips against Harry’s. Draco gasped, and then laughed, pushing him away.

"Alright, alright, you brute. Fine, I’ll come out for a drink if it means we can go to yours afterwards for a nightcap," Draco said with a seductive wink. "Or you could come help me pack at mine for my trip."

Harry frowned, he’d forgotten all about the news of the trip that had been the push he’d needed to show Draco how he felt. His anxiety gripped him with an icy fist again. What did it mean for them, now that they’d finally broken their holding pattern? How would Harry be able to cope without him for six weeks? Harry missed the smirk that Draco shot his way as he made tea. Draco sidled up behind him and wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, his fingers stroking and tickling at Harry’s stomach.

"Or we could go to yours, and _then_ to mine, so that we can get your things as well. You’ll need to inform the DMLE, of course, about your long owed vacation time," Draco said and Harry felt a laugh rumbling in his chest and a pleased flush in his cheeks. Relief rushed through him. "I’ll also need to make some arrangements about our quarters for the duration of our trip," Draco added thoughtfully, already committed to the fact that Harry was apparently now going to go with him on his antique hunting travels.

Harry grinned and silently thanked Merlin for the unpredictable British weather.


End file.
